


Floofy Hair Drabbles

by CrossingTheFourthWall



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, I got this idea off a Tumblr post I saw last year, Total Fluff, just a funny little idea that I took off with
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 18:32:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11765868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrossingTheFourthWall/pseuds/CrossingTheFourthWall





	1. A Little Extra Floof

            The first time that Stan saw his brother’s hair explode was after Weirdmageddon.

            It had been a bit of a restless night for the both of them, what with the nightmares that seemed to plague them both. At least the sea had been calm, so they were both able to get at least a little sleep regardless of what triangle-themed death night terrors snuck in during the night.

            Stan awoke from his after his brother had already stepped out. A hand stumbled for his glasses and he squinted at the clock that was hanging on the wall.

            “Can’t these things wake me up at six instead of goddam four in the morning?” Stan scowled as he stumbled out of his bunk, feeling around for a coat or something that he could wear over his undergarments. Eventually, he managed to find a black trench coat that Ford had insisted on getting him because of the colder weather, and he threw it on before making his way out onto the deck.

            Ford was standing near the bow of the ship, next to the wheel. Stan noticed that the sun was peeking over the horizon and cursed it for being an early riser before heading over to where Ford was standing. Something about the calm morning and the cold, slick deck caused Stan to step lightly and grit his teeth a bit, wishing he’d actually thought of pulling on some slippers or something.

            “Hey, Sixer,” Stan called over. “What was –“

            _FWOOMP._

            Stan stopped short, blinking at his brother as Ford turned sharply to look at him with wide eyes that almost made him look more like a startled animal.

            Ford blinked a couple times, then relaxed his shoulders as he let out a sigh of relief. “Stanley, you startled me.”

            Stan blinked, his eyes moving up to Ford’s hair. He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I can tell.”

            Ford raised an eyebrow at his twin’s statement, then noticed where Stan’s eyes were looking. Instantly, his arms were up over his head, desperately trying to push down the gray afro that his hair had suddenly turned into.

A deep scowl formed on Ford’s face as a low growl slipped out of his throat. “I thought I had this under control.”

            “Well, clearly you don’t.” An amused grin was starting to creep across Stan’s face. “What, did you get mixed with a cat or something?”

            “ _Stanley.”_ Ford’s voice came out as a hiss, which only made Stan’s grin widen. “Stop it. Let’s go back inside before you get frostbite.”

            Stan’s grin didn’t leave his face as he and Ford went back inside the cabin and warmed themselves up and set about to making breakfast. Ford was still attempting to push down his hair, and it finally cooperated when he brandished his brush.

            “So, what’s the story with that?” Stan nodded to Ford’s head as Ford sat down and started eating his breakfast. “I don’t remember you being able to do that before.”

            Ford paused, a piece of pancake nearly in his mouth. He carefully put it back on his plate and sighed irritably. “It’s something that developed during my time on the other side of the portal. A ‘danger sense,’ I suppose you could say.”

            “Danger sense, huh? Is that why your hair was more…oh, what’s the word Mabel used – _floofy_ than it was?”

            Ford sighed again. “Yes, I suppose you could say that. I had thought that I could keep it under control, but it seems that I’m in the wrong on that.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to push it down into a hairstyle that resembled what it had been thirty-some years ago, but it simply bounced back up. “Hopefully, it won’t cause us to gain any unwanted attention in the future.”

            “With all the danger we’re probably going to get into, Poindexter?” Stan gained a wide grin and chuckled darkly. “Might as well use you as a danger beacon on this ship or something.”

            “Stanley!”

            “What?” Stan shrugged. “It was just a suggestion.”

            “Which we will _not_ be taking.” Ford shot Stan a glare, then finished his breakfast quickly. “And I would appreciate it if you didn’t sneak up on me like that again.”

Unfortunately, Ford’s hair wasn’t planning on cooperating, because the next time that they were ambushed by some horrid sea monster (seriously, what was up with all the kraken or whatever they were attracting?), his hair promptly exploded again.

Stan made sure that he had the camera on him so that he could send a picture of Ford’s sudden afro-attack back to Mabel. She would _definitely_ get a kick out of this.


	2. Mabel and the Floof

Ford awoke with a start, the scream he had been yelling in his sleep coming out as a loud gasp that sounded more like he was choking on his own breath. He looked around quickly in the dark, trying to find something – anything – that looked familiar.

He heard the sound of something similar to logs being sawed across the room from him and stiffened for a moment before recognizing the sound. The old man clutched his chest and sighed in relief.

“It’s just Stanley. You just had a…a bad dream.”

He wasn’t about to admit aloud that he’d just had another nightmare about Bi – _you-know-who_ winning two years ago and killing everyone except for him during Weirdmageddon. But he wasn’t about to go back to sleep, either – visions of that yellow triangle were still circling in his mind, and he wasn’t planning on having a second round with Cipher tonight, figment or not.

Well, if he couldn’t get any sleep, he might as well get up and do some research on other anomaly hotspots that he and Stan could travel to.

Ford got up from the couch, having insisted on letting Stan have the bed – he’d slept on harder surfaces; a couch was paradise in comparison. He carefully slipped out of the room and started for the kitchen, where he’d left his sea charts and ship logs before Stan had forced him to go to bed.

The charts and logs were still scattered across the table where Ford had left them, thankfully. He sat down and dove into his work immediately, looking over the possible locations that he’d listed and were being considered for future destinations. Already, some of the places that had been on the list were crossed off – the Arctic Circle being right at the top of the list, with a thick black marker line going right through it.

 _The Bermuda Triangle would certainly be a good change of pace, but I’d rather not face whatever monsters may be hiding there until we’ve managed to get enough money together to properly upgrade the_ Stan O’ War II _in case of sea monster attacks—_

_Creak._

_FWOOMP._

Ford stiffened at the sound as his hair exploded outward. His danger sense had already been stressed to the max thanks to his nightmares, and hearing the sound of someone’s foot coming down on a creaky floorboard behind him didn’t exactly help matters. He turned quickly in order to see who was attempting to sneak up behind him, hand ready to grab his gun at a moment’s notice and shoot the thing if he—

“Grunkle Ford? Are you okay?”

Ford blinked a couple times, then relaxed when he saw that Mabel was standing in the doorway leading into the kitchen, looking a little sleepy-eyed.

“I’m all right, Mabel.” Ford smiled in a way that he hoped was reassuring. Then he frowned. “What about you?”

“I’m okay. I’m a little thirsty though – I wanna make some hot chocolate.” Mabel promptly set off to do just that, pulling the various ingredients for the warm concoction with a quick, practiced ease that clearly said she’d done this multiple times before. “Do you want some too, Grunkle Ford?”

“Certainly.”

Ford went back to working on his sea charts while Mabel put the hot chocolate together, occasionally pressing down on his hair in an attempt to tame the now-afro into something that at least resembled his usual hair style. However, his hair refused to cooperate, even when he put his entire arm over his head – his hair would just spring right back up as soon as he removed his arm.

Ford muttered a quiet curse at his hair under his breath, making sure that Mabel wasn’t able to hear it as she worked, and even if she could have heard him that she wouldn’t have understood what he’d said.

He was so into his work and attempting to find a way to get his hair to calm down that he didn’t notice the two mugs of hot chocolate get placed on the other side of the table, or the odd look that Mabel gave him before coming over and dragging a chair over next to him.

Ford _did_ notice when two small, gentle hands came down on his head, however.

Ford stiffened in surprise when he felt the fingers work into his hair and start smoothing it down gently, slipping into knots that had formed during the night and working them out. He was tense for a moment before he realized that it was Mabel who had her hands on his head and…it actually felt rather soothing. He felt his shoulders slowly relax as he leaned into her hands a little, eyes flickering shut as Mabel practically massaged his scalp in an attempt to get his hair out of its afro-like state.

Mabel let out a soft gasp at Ford’s reaction, then giggled and kept going, smoothing down her grunkle’s hair as he relaxed and leaned back in his seat. “Grunkle Ford, your hair’s so soft.”

“Mmmh.” Ford cracked an eye open and looked over at Mabel. “It’s only because of Stanley’s insistence that I wash it regularly enough that he doesn’t have to shave out the knotted clumps. Even though I’m back now, it…still feels strange, to have access to a shower.”

Mabel’s small smile faded a little. “Oh. Yeah, I guess that would feel a little weird, huh?”

Ford nodded slightly, not wanting to disrupt Mabel’s work even in the slightest. “There is…a lot that I have to get used to again.”

“It’s kinda weird for us, too.”

“Hmm?” Ford raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, after our first summer here, Piedmont is just…boring. And it’s weird that my classmates don’t know that there are brownies living in the school basement, or that there’s a little fairy glen out in the woods near our house.” Mabel shook her head, her work slowing for a moment. “And then there’s the nights where—“

“You can’t sleep,” Ford finished.

Mabel nodded, biting her lower lip. “Yeah.”

Ford reached over and patted Mabel on the head, mussing her hair up a little. “We’ve really changed, haven’t we?”

“Yeah.” Mabel nodded again, then gained an odd smile and giggled. “But my hair doesn’t get all floofy like yours does!”

Ford scowled at Mabel’s comment, but there was a playful light in his eyes at her comment. “Yes, well, when you’re on the run you tend to pick up a danger sense that manifests itself in curious ways.”

“Danger sense?” Mabel gasped. “Like Spiderman’s spider sense! That’s so cool Grunkle Ford!”

Ford chuckled, not exactly sure as to who “Spiderman” was but glad that Mabel understood. “Thank you, but I wish that it wouldn’t manifest itself in this manner.” He motioned to his hair, which Mabel had managed to flatten back to something that resembled how it normally was. “I had thought that I’d managed to get it under control, but it seems that, after….” He trailed off. Mabel knew what he was referring to.

“Well, I think it’s pretty cool.” Mabel smiled at her grunkle. “I mean, you hair explodes! Nobody else has hair that does that!”

Ford chuckled again. “No, I suppose not.” He looked across the table at the mugs of hot chocolate – probably more lukewarm now that they’d been sitting there for a while now. He reached over and carefully maneuvered the mugs over to their side of the table, handed one to Mabel, and took a sip from his. The drink was still warm enough that he could feel it slide down his throat and hit his stomach, spreading a comforting warmth through his limbs.

Mabel made a noise of contentment from next to him as she drank her hot chocolate. “Feeling better, Grunkle Ford?”

“Much, yes.” Ford drank from his mug again and sighed happily, then let out a yawn. Normally, after waking up in the middle of the night he had a hard time going back to sleep, but now – after Mabel petting his hair down and giving him the hot chocolate – he actually felt a little sleepy.

Mabel yawned from where she sat next to him, and he felt her snuggle up against his side. “Can I sleep with you tonight, Grunkle Ford?”

Ford hummed. “I don’t see why not.”

The next morning, when Stan awoke and looked over at his brother, he was surprised to find that Ford was hugging Mabel close to him in his sleep like a teddy bear – and that she was hugging him back. He looked at the two of them for a moment, then shook his head as a smirk crossed his face before he slipped out of the room. As he stepped into the kitchen and started putting together breakfast, he noticed the two mugs with the dredges of something dark at the bottom of them lying in the sink.

Stan chuckled, then set about making pancakes. Dipper was probably going to be up soon, looking for Mabel. And if they were planning on dragging them all out into the woods today, he was going to make sure that they all had full stomachs first.


End file.
